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I haven't always been an unemployed pseudo-hobo. When I was in college, I often worked during Christmas and summer breaks serving food and bussing tables in my hometown. I have a lot of stories I could tell you from those times, but one in particular sticks out in my mind.

I was having a really bad day. I had barely slept the night before because being scheduled for an early shift hadn't made me any less nocturnal. I hadn't gotten anything to eat either. I forgot to pack a lunch and I was stalwartly holding out on buying something because working for $3.25 an hour plus a paltry amount of tips kind of makes you reluctant to purchase a $10 hamburger if you don't absolutely have to.

My sleep-deprivation and hypoglycemia were only aggravated by a string of rude and demanding customers - one guy didn't like the shape of his burger patty, a kid threw a fish stick at my head, some snobby lady made fun of my gaudy, oversized work uniform and I was verbally molested more times than I could count. In light of all of this, I was overjoyed to see a friendly-looking old man come in and seat himself in one of the booths.

The seniors who came into the restaurant were usually delightful to be around and I felt relieved that maybe I would get to experience a fulfilling and kind interaction for the first time that day.

I brought him a menu and cheerfully asked if there was anything he would like to drink. He was like

I quickly went and got him a big glass of cold milk. I handed it over to him with pride, feeling good about my prompt reaction-time and smiling service.

He stared at the milk silently for a few moments before shouting

I was surprised by his reaction to the milk, but I obliged his request and went back to get him a smaller glass. We only had two different glass sizes, so I chose one of the smaller ones and brought it back to the man's table, again feeling proud of my ability to provide quick, tailored service with a smile.

He looked at me. He looked at the milk. He looked back at me. Then his wizened face contorted into a menacing scowl and he shrieked

I felt a little discouraged, but not yet defeated. As I noted before, we didn't have any intermediate-sized glasses, but that wasn't going to stop me from getting this man the exact right amount of milk. No, I needed to find a solution! That solution ended up being filling one of the large glasses halfway. It wasn't the prettiest way to present milk, but it got the job done.

I trotted the half-full glass of milk over to the man, who was now scowling at me from across the room like he was expecting me to fail. I cautiously held it out to him. .

It became immediately apparent that my crafty solution was not satisfactory.

I said, "Sir, we don't have any medium-sized glasses. We only have large glasses and small glasses."

Man: "What the hell are you talking about?"

Me: "The restaurant only has two sizes, small and large. We don't have any medium cups."

Man: "Why don't you have any other cups?"

Me: "I don't know. It's stupid. I'm sorry."

Man: "Do something about it."

Me: "I'll try."

I scurried back to the kitchen to work on somehow hand-crafting a medium-sized glass. I had very little to work with. We had some styrofoam to-go cups that were the same size as the large in-restaurant cups. I took one of the styrofoam cups and cut about three inches off of the top of it with a steak knife. It was not pretty. It looked like I had tried to gnaw the cup apart with my teeth. But it would have to suffice. I filled the monstrosity I had created with milk, took a deep breath and walked toward the man's table. I could see him glaring at me, daring me to disappoint him one more time.

My hands shook as I held out the cup to him, hoping, hoping, hoping - maybe he wouldn't notice the jagged edges, maybe he wouldn't care that there were little bits of styrofoam floating in his milk. Maybe.

88 comments:

More milk means bring the cow. Less milk means bring a lactating nipple. If he's still not satisfied (and I work with Medicare patients all day so I know how THAT goes) I'd suggest bringing a lactating goat as a happy medium.

As a waitress at a Friendly's for almost 7 years (ice cream and burgers, no booze) I dealt with my fair share of Goldilocks customers who wanted shit 'jussst right'. Well, fuck off cheapo patrons! You know what I could do to this milkshake with one flick of my lowly waitress finger?!?

[1] I think it should be mandatory that everyone, at some point in their life, should be made to work in some sort of food service. I think everyone would be a whole lot different to their servers and such after living it for themselves.

[2] When I waited tables for cash on my college summers, I did learn that the Visine trick from Wedding Crashers *DOES WORK*. I'm just saying.

Oh, what a sad story! I'm sorry he yelled at you, Allie. This is why I took a vow of celibacy. Er... I mean, a vow to never work in the fast food business. I don't know how I got those mixed up. I'm sleepy.

hahahaha amazing! I know this crazy customer all too well. I just don't get why people don't just take the two seconds to explain to you exactly what they want. Or why not just have an open mind and take the large glass of milk and maybe like, don't drink it all? Or save some for later?

Haha, this is hilarious and scares the crap out of me because I keep remembering when I had to deal with the public. *shivers* Yeah, some people are horrible and feel entitled. Makes me want to punch them in the throat--and I mean that in the nicest way possible. :)

Fucking old people, no kidding. My great aunt yells at wait staff if there's ice in her drink. I keep telling her there's no way people can read her mind, or that anyone in their right mind drinks warm soda without ice.

This makes me remember why I vowed to never ever work in food again. Once I had a guy tell me in great detail why he wasn't tipping me. Basically it was because I didn't refill his drink. We were a self-serve restaurant.

Michelle - I didn't eat the fish stick, but I must admit to sneaking bites of people's food when they sent it back untouched. I was broke, they were wasting food, what am I supposed to do? I actually ate the other half of a burger with a few bites taken out of it one time. It wasn't my proudest moment, but when you're living off of $8,000 a year, you take what you can get.

I don't know how you did it! If I'd have been in that situation and would just gave him the original milk and told him to be happy with what he had!...does that make me bad person? Probably. Oh well :)

You are nicer than I. I waited tables all through college and after the second glass I would've either thrown the milk in his face or gotten the manager to deal with him. Probably the latter because I needed money.

Ha ha. Great story, and totally brings me back to the fast food and waitressing days (although I was probably worse at being a waitress than the customers were at being customers). And I have to fess up to eating a bite or two of someone's leftover food - one time a broke friend and I were waiting for someone in a diner in NY, only able to afford coffee, and the waiter took pity and actually brought us the leftover half of someone's club sandwich. It was delicious.p.s. - I like the monster at the bottom of the page.

My first week as a waitress I had a self-proclaimed wine connoisseur. Never having consumed wine, since it smells like nail polish remover, I knew jack shit about it. He demanded I get the head bartender to discuss his wine options with him.

It was a Friday night and the restaurant I was working at was a place with a bar attached and was 'famed' for 10oz burgers.

He made me drag the bartender out of the bar on a Friday night so that he could demand the vintage of all the wines on premises.

It's a fucking hick bar. They serve more Bud Light than anything else (I know this for a fact, having had to spend many Friday nights hunched over in the cellar sorting bottles from the chute) and the wine came out of a goddamned box.

On a totally unrelated topic, my boyfriend was just listening to your favorite journey song and instead of thinking of glee, or even the time i saw journey at the walmart shareholders concert, i thought about you. Commence feeling weirdly special.

i work in a bar and today a grandpa man ordered "diet water" i asked him twice and he said it like it was perfectly normal. thinking of this post, i was too scared to question him and brought him water with trepidation. i told him it was our lowest calorie water and ran away.

I've never been a server (been a dishwasher, which is hell in different ways) but I worked at a support line... for a life insurance company. People think that the service industry can defy reality and they expect nothing less. I would've probably drank the milk down and said, "That looks about right."

Sweetie, I think I might love you but that would be creepy and weird so forget I said that. But you are one of my fav bloggers like ever (after Jenny the bloggess...cause we all are lessened by her shadow) but yeah...love you...I even print out your amazing pics and post them on my inspiration board...cause you inspire me...love you...hiding now...

Did you work at a Friendly's in Maryland? Because this exact same thing happened to me, except the older dude was with his wife, and his beef was with the spoon, not the milk glass. Maybe he's a traveling performance artist?

I just found yourblog today and realized just now that I've been totally creeping on, like, every post for way too long and it's now 1:20 in the morning so YOU ARE AWESOME but I must sleep now goodnight.

When I saw the title of this post, I thought maybe it was going to be about the milk shortage of 2005. Although, come to think of it, that was actually 2004. I remember it well because (a) I stole a little sticker from the grocery store that explained how there was a milk shortage, and (b) I asked my editor at the time if I could write an article about the milk shortage. She said I had to make it local, so I went to some pizza parlor owners and asked them if cheese was more expensive or if they had to raise the prices on pizza. They said no. I didn't do an article.

You know, I always Worked, since I'm 15, with people. I mean, doing services and dealing with crazy boss full of acne juice. And yet, From the time I learn that, what I'm doing is the same that other people do where ever I go that happen to be their work place. So I don't get mad at them, don't yeld, just... Let them do their job the best they can. I'm working now at a subways and at walt-mart in the parmacy... What I mean is:

Just what the hell is wrong with people? I so undrstand you. I got pretty much the same last week, with Chestnut collar T_T